


Sign Shift

by ienablu



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Astrology, F/M, Gen, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:16:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3180050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ienablu/pseuds/ienablu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to the precession of the Earth, May is, apparently, a Scorpio.</p>
<p>(Somehow, this is not the worst undercover op she's had.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sign Shift

**Author's Note:**

> I was unable to find a canon birthday for May, which in another circumstance would have annoyed me, but worked in my favor for this.
> 
> This story takes place roughly between 2.05 and 2.06, though it's not exactly canon compliant. Ward's contact was written with Paula Patton in mind.
> 
> Extended notes [here](http://hayes-district.dreamwidth.org/4421.html).

The mission is simple – a contact of Ward had reached out, saying that she had information on a possible resurgence of AIM that she would sell to him, and him alone. She gave an address for  a fancy hotel bar, though she said she didn’t care whether he came alone or not.

Coulson had a very long talk with Ward, Skye had a very long talk with Ward, and May had a very long talk with Ward. May then had a very long conversation with Coulson regarding the risk of putting Ward in the field, especially since a higher priority upcoming mission meant there would be no back-up. Coulson shared her concerns, but felt confident that the four of them could handle the mission.

May would be running point, with Skye reluctantly put on communications.

Morse and Blake were supposed to be positioned three tables away, in the restaurant just off the bar. Their covers explained away the age difference – her in it for the money, him in it for the arm-candy. Blake wasn’t thrilled to be assigned to the field (wasn’t thrilled when Coulson recruited him back into SHIELD), but he trusts Morse.

And then Morse came down with a cold.

And Blake requested someone who _didn’t_ have a cold go on the field with him.

On one hand, given that Blake’s last time in the field landed him in critical condition, even with two agents at full health, May can see his point. On the other hand, prior to hunting for the Clairvoyant, the last time May and Blake were on the same team, they spent most of the mission mildly concussed, with at least half a dozen sprains and hairline fractures split between the two of them, and they made it out of that just fine.

But there wasn’t really enough time to argue, and so now Melinda is sitting across from Blake – Richard Vanderpool. Wealthy Wall Street stockbroker, who retired and moved to Boston and took up a part-time job coaching first year stockbrokers. They had to adjust the covers, with May only two years younger than Blake, but Skye had spent five minutes readjusting their fake FaceBook pages and said they were all set.

And things are going well. May has no idea how, really. She’s not happy with being in the field, not with Ward being in the field, not with the potential uprising of AIM, not with the potential for an alliance between AIM and HYDRA, not with the fact that May got talked into wearing high heels again. But it’s going well. Over Blake’s shoulder, May has been watching Ward at the bar, where he’s interacting genially with his contact. Morse is acting as translator, and Skye is – tersely – relaying at the information is good. And sitting down, May doesn’t have to worry about the fact that her feet are already starting to become sore.

Blake is keeping up their cover, chatting away across the table from her. Undercover relationships were never her strong suit, but thankfully they had built to what strengths she had, and her cover – Suzanne Mei Zhou – is rarely inclined to listen to what Richard has to say in full. It’s not until their appetizers have been cleared away does something in his posture shift. He casually looks around, then leans in, lowering his voice slightly.

"I looked at your record, by the way. I was right. You,” he tells her, a half-smile on his face, “are a Scorpio."

May raises an eyebrow. She was expecting a comment regarding the mission. Not a reboot of a conversation that took place what feels like a lifetime ago. She glances around to make sure no one is paying them any attention. They aren’t. "I was born November 27th. That makes me a Sagittarius."

"Under the traditional tropic western zodiac, that’s true. But for so many thousands of years the zodiac traits and dates have stayed the same, even when the rotation of the Earth’s axis has changed the placement of the stars in our sky. Being born November 27th makes you a Scorpio."

"You still believe in astrology," May says, for lack of anything else. And because it still baffles her.

He nods, and takes a drink of his water. "There are worse things to believe in."

Unbidden, May glances over Blake's shoulder at Ward. He’s still smiling, and the half-volume background conversation on the comms is still friendly.

Blake catches her shift in attention. "Ward says he’s not HYDRA, and he’s willing to help with the mission. If he helps, things go well, you can throw him back in his cell. If he turns traitor again, we kill him. It’s that simple.” Blake considers her for a moment. “I’m sure Coulson would be amenable if you were the one to pull the trigger.”

"Skye had already requested the honor," May replies.

Skye huffs on their line. "Things are going well," she says, but she doesn’t sound happy.

May has never taken to breaking cover during missions, the way other agents seem drawn to. She’ll reply to any comments or questions, but she is always inclined to step back into character as soon as she can. Still, the servers are scarce on the floor, and the other patrons around them are all absorbed in their own conversations. “What makes you so certain I’m a Scorpio?”

“Have you ever looked up the traits of a Scorpio?”

May has never put much stock in any zodiac or horoscope. The only ones that she bothers to read are the intentionally humorous ones. She can’t even remember the last horoscope she read. It had something to do with a waffle recipe, she thinks. But Blake is still waiting for her to reply, so she shakes her head.

“Focused. Brave. Balanced. Faithful. Ambitious. Intuitive. Sounds like you to me.”

Undercover relationships have never been May’s strong suit. She doesn’t drop her cover to have personal conversations; and situations where other agents drop their covers for those conversations, they always rang a bit false for her.

May has known Blake since their time at the Academy. They started in different social circles, but as potentials washed out, all circles merged into one. Blake was a legacy, and a bit arrogant about it, which made him all the more fun to prank. He got over himself, mostly, and he was a good friend. Fun to flirt with, at dingy bars following field exams. Their skillsets didn’t overlap for a majority of missions, but when they both ended up more on the administrative side of operations, they saw each other every now and then.

She isn’t really all that close with him, but something about this… it feels honest.

“Are you hitting on me?” May finally asks.

There’s a quiet snort on the other end of the line.

Blake reaches across the table, and picks up his hand in hers. It’s cold, from holding the glass of ice water. “Always, my darling Mei-Mei.”

The pet name makes her want to roll her eyes, but she just gives him a simpering look in reply. Or something like simpering. “And what about the traits of a Sagittarius?”

“Positive. Straightforward. Intellectual. Philosophical. Large-hearted. Adventurous. Not entirely off, I’ll grant you, but the negatives don’t match you at all. Careless? Impatient? Superficial? Inconsistent? Not from what I know about you.” He quirks a smile at her. “I’ve seen your paperwork. Inconsistent is the last word I’d use for you.”

May’s paperwork is impeccable. She smiles, and reaches for her wine glass.

As she’s tilting her glass back, Blake says, “Ward’s a Sagittarius.”

On the comms, Skye bursts out laughing.

The background Russian conversation has wound down, and May glances over Blake’s shoulder, sees that Ward has gone tense, his gaze directed up towards the security camera.

“Skye,” May says into her drink, warningly. She doesn’t disagree, not exactly, but Ward is their ally in the field, they should be above meaningless antagonism. While in the field.

“Sorry,” Skye says, not sounding very sorry at all.

Ward and his contact’s conversation starts back up. Morse says something chiding in Russian.

There are no servers in sight. “And you?” May keeps her tone light and conversational as she asks, “What’s your sign?”

Skye laughs again, though she muffles it quickly. 

Blake’s lips twitch into a brief smile, but he otherwise keeps a straight face. “Cancer. Both traditional and updated.”

May slips off one shoe, and slides her foot up the back of Blake’s calf. “And what does that make you?”

“Creative. Spontaneous. Faithful. Loving. Emotional. Protective.”

“And you think that’s accurate?”

Blake gives her an unimpressed look. 

“And your negative qualities, then?”

“Moody. Pessimistic. Clingy. Suspicious. Stop smiling, Melinda.”

“I’m not smiling.”

"Yes you are," Blake replies. "I'm not complaining, though. I know how much you hate undercover. If I can make it even somewhat enjoyable for you, even at the price of my ego, I’m glad."

“You’re that loving and emotional.”

Blake reaches for his water glass. “You’re damn right. Now are we ever going to get that dinner we ordered, or…”

May glances over at Ward. He's tapping at his temple. She half-listens to Blake complain about the service at the restaurant – settling back into his cover, surely, for May's never known Blake to be so vocal about his dissatisfaction – but keeps getting distracted from his words by Ward’s tapping. He’s using his middle finger.

After a few repetitions, May finally recognizes the pattern.

Dot-dot-dash-dot.

"Skye, how long as Ward been tapping his temple?"

"On and off for a minute, now? It's not any official SHIELD signal that I know of, though, and I have been through the handbook. Multiple times."

It's not an official SHIELD signal, but an unofficial one. Woo had come up with on a mission that had headed south fast. An emergency extraction, a speedy surgery, a week and a few beers later, he provided a full verbalization of all he intended the signal to mean, but it simply boils down to _I am fucked_.

May restrains herself from saying something similar. "Skye, do you know Morse code?"

"Uh, SOS?"

Ward draws his hand away from his face, disguising the movement with a gesture, before settling his hand down to rest on his thigh. Under the bar but still visible to both May's view and Skye's cameras, his middle finger taps out a dot-dot-dot, dash-dash-dash, dot-dot-dot.

Over the comms, Skye says, "Oh."

Blake looks at May.

She draws her hand up, and taps a quick 'F' against her temple.

"Oh," Blake repeats.

May slides her foot back into her shoe. "I have three contingency plans," she starts. At least, three that involve Ward being jeopardized and May needing to get the three of them out of the restaurant. She has plenty other contingency plans for other circumstances, most of them regarding Ward going AWOL and needing to bring him back to SHIELD. She was actually looking forward to a few of those, too.

But as long as one of the plans gives her the opportunity to punch somebody, she’ll be happy. 

"I was thinking I could just do a Malta," Blake says, standing up, buttoning his jacket.

May has been to Malta at least a dozen times, while Blake has been there half a dozen times, though without any overlap. It takes a moment for her to realize the exact instance Blake is referring to, but by the time she does, it's too late to tell him what a horrible idea it is.

He's already down on one knee, and pulling out a small jewelry box out of his jacket pocket.

"Suzanne Mei Zhou, you are the light of my life, and I want to spend the rest of my life basking in that warmth,” he says, voice and expression earnest. It reads well for Richard Vanderpool, but it’s completely devoid of Blake. Aside from the spontaneity. “Will you marry me?”

This is not the first time any SHIELD agent has used a proposal to get out of a sticky situation. However, public proposals were easier years ago, when social media – and camera phones – weren’t as prominent. May trusts Skye to be intercepting all the pictures that are being taken and uploaded online. Probably to Instagram, May thinks sourly to herself. But then she just gives out a shriek, and pushes her chair back. "Oh, Richie!" she cries out, as she drops down onto her knees to hug him. There’s a scattering of applause from the tables around them. "A little more warning next time," she hisses into his ear. "And Skye–"

"I'm deleting the pictures as we speak," she assures. "Except that one. That one I'm keeping for blackmail."

Blake gives out a laugh as he stands up, and pulls her to her feet. "Come on, we need to celebrate," he says.

May barely has a second to grab her purse before Blake is pulling her over to the bar.

Blake crowds next to Ward, May next to Ward's contact. A quick scan of her shows that she’s not armed, and not the threat Ward is concerned about. Still, May hopes Blake’s plan has an opening for May to question her.

"A bottle of champagne,” Blake declares, “if you have any stored back here. I can't wait long enough for the servers to catch notice."

"Richard," May says, in a shushing voice. She playfully swats on his shoulder. A touch to the shoulder, signaling things are good on her end with the contact. Any lower would be a cause for concern. 

"Congratulations," Ward says, his voice slurred. He sets a hand down on Blake’s forearm. "You are a lucky, lucky man. Let me tell you, Suzie is fantastic in the sack, and I am certain she will make you very, very happy."

Blake's punch knocks Ward clean off the stool.

It's satisfying to watch. May will be okay with Skye keeping whatever blackmail she came across, so long as she got a recording of that.

But then Ward surges to his feet, and he's slamming Blake into the bar.

It’s not much of a fight – more of a spectacle, to draw attention.

And security.

Only a few punches are thrown before three burly men dressed in all black make their way over.

May realizes that she should be reacting to all of this. “Richie, what are you thinking?” she says, shrilly.

“Gentlemen, please come with us,” one of the security guards says, as the other two both reach for Blake and Ward.

As Blake and Ward are dragged away – Blake arguing, Ward stumbling – attention turns to May.

The contact reaches for May's elbow, her nails digging into her skin. "Oh, sweetheart, how embarrassing! Here, let's go get you cleaned up," she says, voice ringing with a concerned sincerity that doesn't meet her eyes.

The contact keeps up a string of simpering platitudes, but her grip is pure iron as she drags May around the edge of the room, to the hallway leading to the bathrooms. She shoves the door open, and pokes her head in, looking around, before pulling May in.

May has an Icer on her as soon as the door closes behind her.

She raises her hand. "I'm not armed," she says.

"I know," May replies. "What went wrong?"

"Nothing. For me, at least," she adds, after a moment.

"What happened with Ward?"

"I sold him out."

"Why?"

"Because there was good money for his head."

"The intel you gave him – was it good, or were you just stalling for time?"

"The intel was as good as the money he gave me. Very good," she clarifies. “You can lower your weapon, May. I don’t know what Ward has told you about me–”

“Nothing.”

She sighs. When she speaks, her Russian accent is replaced by an Italian one. “Adriana Vieri. I consider myself to be… an information broker. It’s lovely to meet you, though, Ward has spoken of you quite highly.”

May can’t quite keep the surprise from registering on her face.

“I know,” Adriana replies. “Frankly, I’m still surprised he’s made friends. I’ve known him for years, he can flirt through the job just fine, but he’s never seemed like the friendly type.”

“He’s an asset, not a friend.” Still, May slowly lowers her Icer. “Who did you sell him out to?”

“Old friends of his mentor.”

“Garrett?” May thought Garrett’s friends began and ended with SHIELD, and by extension... “Were they HYDRA?”

“I didn’t ask,” Adriana says, with a shrug. “They wanted his location, I wanted their money, Ward wanted information, I wanted his money. I have worked with many agencies, in one way or another, but my only real loyalty is to my Swiss bank account.”

May briefly wonders if she’s a Sagittarius. “Then why are you tipping me off?”

“I have many buyers, but none look quite as good shirtless as Ward does.”

Probably a Sagittarius.

"Anything else you feel like sharing with the class?"

“There’s a two man team that had been stationed in the restaurant, and there’s another four men outside. No real heavy artillery, but surely they’re packing some heat.”

Nothing May can’t handle, then. Blake will talk the restaurant management into letting the event slip from memory, no charges pressed, no need to call in any police. He and Ward will be banned from the restaurant, and escorted off the premises. If May wants to disarm any hostiles, she should start heading out now.

She really doesn’t want to fight in heels, though.

She looks down. “Mind if I trade for your flats?”

Adriana looks down, and sighs. “I like these flats,” she says, her voice mournful. “But I know what it’s like trying to fight in four inch heels. Sure, once the adrenaline kicks in, you don’t really feel anything, but I swear, it felt like my ankles were sore for the next three weeks. Not worth it.”

“And you didn’t just take them off?” May asks.

“Too many straps, not enough warning.” She slides out of her flats, and nudges them across the floor. “There’s a reason why I wore these to the meeting.”

May resists the urge to kick her heels off, and passes them over to Adriana.

Who gasps. “Are these really Manolo Blahniks? That you’re just _handing_ over to me?”

“I have no idea who that is,” May says, as she slides on the flats. A bit snug, but otherwise they fit. “You’re free to keep them, if you like them.” May doesn’t. And maybe now SHIELD will get the hint to give May flats next time, so she doesn’t have to trade away potentially very expensive heels for them.

Adriana gives May a brilliant smile. “I was going to try and charge you for the extra information regarding Ward’s pursers, but these pay that fee, with interest.” She slides into the heels, and gives an appreciative hum. “You know, next time I have a tip, if Ward is unavailable, I might ask for you.”

May makes her way to the door, running through the blueprint of the restaurant. It shouldn’t take her more than a minute to get outside, and another minute to find the four man team. Glancing back at Adriana, she asks, “Would you promise not to sell me out?”

“Perhaps. Depends on what kind of shoes I get out of it.” She waves a hand. “We can negotiate later. Coffee, maybe? But right now, you need to go save Ward and your fiancé.”

There are a few things wrong with what Adriana said, but there’s only one important thing to clarify right now. “No, now I need to go kick some ass.”


End file.
